


Manhattan

by billskristen



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: F/M, Sad, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 22:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billskristen/pseuds/billskristen
Summary: A quick little scene I wrote listening to Manhattan by Sara Bareilles. The sad aftermath of Bill telling Kristen he’s going to be a dad for the first time.





	Manhattan

“Kristen?”  
Bill opens the door to her dressing room and she turns, quickly wiping the tears off her face, but he saw her. She wasn’t fast enough. “Hey.. you okay?” he asks, his tone more gentle now. He shuts the door behind him carefully and Kristen nods. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, trying to stop her voice from shaking. She jumps a little when she feels Bill’s hand on her shoulder. “Why are you crying?” he asks gently, his face full of worry. Kristen shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she whispers, but she does know. The reason why she was crying was standing right in front of her. Bill had told her that morning that he and his wife are expecting their first baby. She’s the only person he’s told, because she’s his best friend. And she’s trying so hard to be happy for him, she is. But here she is, getting caught crying in her dressing room by the last person she wanted to catch her. All because she’s in love with him and he can never know and she thinks it’s too late now, it’s way too late to change anything. “You don’t know?” Bill mumbles, gripping her shoulders. Kristen can feel her heart rate speeding up. “I.. Yeah, I don’t know,” she mutters and he wipes her tears with his thumbs and he’s so sweet and her chest is tight and she feels her bottom lip quivering. “Come here,” Bill mumbles, pulling her to his chest. She sighs heavily and she lets the hot tears roll from her cheeks to his shirt. He squeezes her in his warm arms. “You’re okay,” he whispers. He has no idea. Kristen grips his shirt in her fingers and he runs his fingers through her hair, his stubbly cheek against her ear. “Yeah. I’m okay.”


End file.
